City of Stars
by LondonaLozzy
Summary: After a nasty break up Billie Monroe moved to L.A. What she didn't bet on, was that one rainy day a man would hear her sing, a man with a broken heart. The piano man. Can she piece him back together? Will she finally find her purpose? All that and more will be answered, and it starts on the day she walked out of the rain. Walked out of the rain and into his club.
1. Chapter 1

I know there's a plan for everyone, but sometimes I don't understand what the message is, or what the point is. Maybe we're not supposed to understand. Maybe we just have to take the course that we think is right for us and hope that someone comes along who sees the bigger picture.

I've always struggled knowing what to do with my life, where I wanted it to go. All I did know, all that I was sure of, was that I loved to sing. Not pop, rnb or even hip-hop. It was jazz. Jazz and swing.

My Mum had always been a music buff, old jazz standards from the 40's being her first love. I wasn't raised on the music of Michael Jackson, Queen or Whitney like most people my age. I was brought up with Louis Armstong, Sarah Vaughn, Duke Ellington and my namesake Billie Holliday. It was this style that I lived on, that I fed on. It was my passion.

Growing up in a small town in the middle of England I struggled to find my place, my place in the world. As I got older and adulthood loomed I started to feel trapped. I didn't know what I wanted or where I wanted to go. I just knew that, that wasn't it. Being there, living there wasn't what was meant for me.

Like for most people if you blink long enough life begins to pass you by. It feels like seconds have passed, but in reality it could be years. When I was 23 I met him, my first and only serious boyfriend. His name was James and he totally swept me off my feet. He treated me like a princess, like I was his everything. I got caught up in him, in the things he'd say, in the things he'd do. I thought he was the one, that he was my purpose, my future.

For the first year everything was great, perfect in fact. After that though, things started to change. We'd go weeks without talking, never mind seeing each other. When we did finally meet it was fraught with arguments and tears. I wasn't happy, he wasn't happy.

One night, the night it ended, he came to my flat, complete with a bunch of roses and a forced smile on his face. He'd said it was to surprise me, and surprise me he did.

You see, that same night I'd planned to meet some girlfriends in town. We were going to go to a few bars, maybe a club or two. I needed a pick me up. I'd got all dolled up, did my hair, my makeup. I even brought a new dress.

When I opened the door and greeted him dressed to the nines, clearly not missing him at all, all he could see was red. He was convinced that I was seeing another guy and would not listen to anything I had to say. It was like something clicked in his head and he wouldn't be happy until I'd been punished.

The unimaginable pain I felt when my jaw hit the hall cabinet after he hit me was unlike anything I could ever explain. The subsequent punches and blows that came after only adding to that. He didn't apologise, showed no remorse. He just dusted himself off. Dusted himself off and left.

Laying on the carpet, blood caked in my hair, and bones broken throughout my body all I wanted to do was give up. I just wanted it all to stop.

Vision blurred and ears ringing, it could have easily ended right there. But then, through the darkness and the fog I could hear a sound, beautiful music. I'd plugged my iPod in whilst I was getting ready, the songs blaring through the house as the horror occurred. As I listened in, trying to decipher the tune I was greeted by the vocal stylings of the one and only Ella Fitzgerald. She was singing Cheek to Cheek. A song about being so in love with someone, that just dancing with them melts away all your troubles, make you feel as if you're in heaven.

Wanting to stay awake long enough for someone to find me, I concentrated on the lyrics, put all of my effort into focusing on them rather than what had just happened and how horrible I felt. It was then, right in that moment, as Ella's silky and buttery voice soothed over me, that I decided I was worth more than this. My life was meant for something, for someone. I wanted to feel a love like Ella feels in that song. A love so great that just a simple action like cheeks touching can be total bliss. That's what I had to fight for, what I had to live for.

It was jazz that saved me. Jazz that healed me, and jazz that ultimately led me to where it would all change. It led me to L.A.


	2. Chapter 2

Whatever it is that's meant for me, I have to stop trying to figure it out. I have to let it stay unresolved for at least a little while. I have to stop trying to fast forward to the 'answer' scene in the movie of my life. I have to trust the present scene of 'no answer yet'. Allow the question itself space to breathe. I have to relax. To live in the now. Now being the 105/110 freeway in Los Angeles.

It's been 4 months since the incident with James, and it couldn't feel further away. Once I was physically healed and on the mend I did not hesitate in packing everything up and making the move to the U.S. I'd lived my whole life obsessed with American culture, the music, the movies of the 50's. I was half American as well, my Dad's family originating from Boston. That meant I had a dual nationality passport. I could go for as long as I wanted. It was somewhere I always knew I could make a life for myself. I just had to work out what part of America I was meant to end up in.

My parents had been fully supportive when I said I wanted to make the move, travelling around the country until I found somewhere to settle. They just wanted me to be happy, to move on from what had happened. If letting me go was going to do that then they were more than willing. I just had to make sure I kept in touch. That was their one condition.

As soon as I landed, I headed to a dealership and brought the best car I could afford with the money I had. Mum and Dad were taking control of the sale of my flat, so until that all went through I had to be careful with my money.

Once out on the open road I just drove, drove to wherever the wind took me. There was no rhyme or reason to the places I ended up. I was just searching, searching for something, for someone. I just didn't know what or who it was yet.

 _Good Morning, Good Morning_

 _It's great to stay up late_

 _Good Morning, Good Morning to you_

Driving along the freeway as I headed into Los Angeles I was happily greeted by the melodic voice of Debbie Reynolds. The song from Singing In The Rain bursting through the speakers as I turned the radio on. It was almost as if I was being greeted to the city, welcomed. One of Hollywoods most famous musicals was beckoning me to come closer and I couldn't be more excited.

 _When the band began to play the stars were shining bright_

 _Now the milkman's on his way and it's too late to say good night_

 _So, Good Morning, Good Morning_

 _Sun beams will soon smile through_

 _Good Morning, Good Morning to you_

Singing along to the upbeat tune I nearly missed my exit that would take me into the centre of the city, the Hollywood sign now visible off in the distance. It felt different, coming to L.A. Special. I had a feeling this wasn't going to be a fly in visit like so many other cities before it. This was going to be a longer stay, maybe permanent. I just had to figure out why.

For the first couple of days I booked into a motel whilst I looked for a rental near the city. I eventually settled on a small 1 bed apartment half way between Santa Monica and Hermosa Beach. It wasn't exactly a palace, but it was mine. For now at least.

Each day I would drive to a different part of the city, trying to find work as a singer and make myself a bit of money. Before long I had become just another statistic in L.A. Another person looking to make their name in the city of stars. It was never about being famous, not for me. I just wanted to sing songs, songs that put a smile on people's faces, brought them together. It didn't matter where it was or why it was. All that mattered was that it meant something, something to me.


End file.
